The Raven's PlanThe_SithspawnChapter 2: Midnight in WinterfellChapter Text
Chapter 2 Midnight in Winterfell
Robb Stark
He lurched from bed in a start. The pain was suddenly gone. He stared around in a panic, his eyes searching for Talisa's bloody corpse. Gone were the pandemonium of battle, he was surrounded by silence.
He came to a cold stop when he recognized the room he was in.
"What is this?" he whispered to himself as he stared about at his old room in Winterfell.
Whining answered him, followed by a small yip.
He looked to the noise and his eyes grew wide as he stared down and saw Grey Wind gazing up at him.
"That's not right..." he muttered to himself. Instead of a fully grown direwolf, a small adorable pup stared up at him.
The pup yipped at him again.
He knelt down and rubbed Grey Wind's head lovingly.
"This is madness...."
Touching his dear friend calmed him down.
Grey Wind looked up at Robb questioningly.
Moments passed and with a deep sigh, Robb said, "We're home boy."
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He walked through the corridors of Winterfell in a daze, running his hands against the stones of the familiar walls not believing where he appeared to be.
It was deepest moment of night, no one stirred at this time as Robb walked the halls of Winterfell in a daze.
He walked slowly and quietly stopping often, as old memories came unbidden to haunt him.
It seemed a more innocent time, before all the battles, all the mistakes, before Talisa...
The refrain of the Rains of Castamere echoed in his ears and his hand rubbed his chest were the final blow had come.
The Lannisters send their regards. Roose Bolton's traitorous words echoed through his ears.
He shook it all away and strode forward once more, overcoming the dark memories with light memories of Winterfell.
He continued onwards, he reached the great hall, hesitantly he entered.
The great hall was as he'd left it, unmarred by wherever desecrations the Ironborn would have done while they held Winterfell.
Bittersweet memories swam before his mind's eye as he imagined seeing father holding court here when he was still alive.
The strong specter of his father filled the hall. So many times he'd been bored as he watched Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, held court and dealt with his loyal bannermen.
If only he'd paid more attention. Robb cursed himself silently, If I'd listened more would I still be alive?
His musing were cut short as a figure appeared at the end of the hall.
The figure stepped into the light and Robb froze in disbelief.
Theon Greyjoy stood there with strangest look on his face that Robb had ever seen.
"Robb?" he uttered in disbelief.
Robb's feet carried him forward of their own volition.
"Theon?" venom consumed his voice as he spat out the name.
"This is one the hells isn't it?" Theon's voice carried a tone of defeat and desperation that matched the look that was growing on his face. "You're here to punish me aren't you?"
Rage over came Robb.
Traitor! Bran! Rickon! My brothers!
He tried to form words to throw at his traitorous friend but the rage was too much.
He launched himself at Theon with an animalistic howl worthy of a direwolf, grabbing a fistful of tunic and pulling back his fist.
Theon made no move to protect himself as Robb's fist met flesh. There was a sickening crack and blood spattered and he reached back.
Blood trickled down Theon's nose and guilt filled his eyes, "I'm sorry..."
Robb's eyes flashed as blind rage consumed him.
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Eddard Stark
He woke with a start.
His hand went instinctively to his neck and found it intact, and his head still attached.
"What is this is?" he demanded.
Gone were the steps of the Sept of Baelor, the crowds braying for his blood, and Joffrey's cruel faithless voice. He was back in his own bed in his rooms in Winterfell.
Confusion, the foremost on his mind he turned to Catelyn's side of the bed, but found it empty. The covers were cast aside. He laid a hand on her side and felt the residual warmth. It didn't seem to be a dream.
You wouldn't feel heat in dream? Would you? But where is Cat?
It felt like it was the middle of the night. What could she be possibly doing at this time of night?
He rose from his bed, casting all thoughts of Cat aside, the surreality of the moment overwhelming him.
By the Old Gods and the New! How am I back in Winterfell?
He took a couple of steps before he realised that something was wrong. It took him a second to realise that he wasn't limping. His leg felt as good as new, as if that Redcloak hadn't stabbed him while he was distracted.
He shook that away and mentally reviewed his most recent situation.
Catelyn's hostage taking, the bloody Kingslayer, betrayal on all asides, Baelish, the Goldcloaks. All his loyal men slaughtered, the Lannisters seizing power with the abomination, Joffrey as their figurehead.
It was almost too much for him.
"I should never have left Winterfell," he muttered mournfully to himself.
His anger swelled to him as a stray thought struck him.
The damned abomination had had Ice used to execute him! With Sansa standing right there!
Rage gripped his heart as he imagined what depredations would have been visited on his daughter after he'd died.
Gods, Arya!
He'd seen her hiding in the crowd, what happened to her? How had she gotten away from the Lannisters?
Old Gods Damn Joffrey! And all the fucking Lannisters!
But that didn't explain how he could be back in his sleeping quarters in Winterfell. He stared about himself in confusion, "Is this the next life?" he called out, "Brandon? Father? Mother? .....Lyanna?" If this was the next life, shouldn't they be here with him?
No one answered him, and Ned just stood there, for the first time in a long time, he was unsure of what to do.
He sat done on the edge of his bed and started to brood. Dark thoughts plaguing him, marred by the confusion of his current situation.
Ned didn't know how long he sat there musing, but suddenly he realised that he could hear shouting coming from outside.
A great ruckus indeed.
He was grateful for the distraction from his impossible situation.
The shouting was intensifying, getting louder and louder by the minute.
He strained his ears and tried to pick out the voices.
Jory's commanding bellow stood out. He frowned as he made out Maester Luwin's voice. Jon and Robb's voices joined the amalgam of voices. Ned started as he heard urgency and anger in their tones.
With an alacrity, he grabbed his robe and ran out to find out what was happening.
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Ned entered the Great Hall and came upon a scene of utter madness and chaos.
Servants and Guardsmen were gathered, in various degrees of dress, shouting and speaking together.
They were surrounding someone, many of them seemed to be shouting encouragements while others were trying to calm those around them.
Ned hastily pushed his way to the center, wondering what lunacy was going on at this hour of the night. As he moved closer those around him started to give way as they recognized him.
He reached the center; Jon and Jory Cassel were holding onto Robb with all their strength trying to keep him away from Theon, who had fallen on the ground, blood streaming down his face. Maester Luwin was next to him trying to stanch the bleeding. Arya had wrapped herself around one of Robb's legs and was holding tight trying to weigh him down while Sansa was standing in front of Robb, screaming at him to calm down and stay away from Theon.
Four of the direwolf pups were chaotically dancing around yipping and pulling the legs of various people, whether helping or hindering was anyone's guess.
"WHAT MADNESS IS THIS?!" Ned roared in his most commanding tone.
Everyone froze, the commanding tone of the Lord of Winterfell something they were used to obeying, cutting through whatever was going on here.
His children turned to him with surprise and disbelief on their faces.
"Father..." Robb uttered in stunned disbelief. The fight went out of him and he stood there staring at Ned with equal parts trepidation, happiness and...shame. But still Jon and Jory didn't relax their grip on him.
Shame? Why is he looking ashamed?
Sansa broke the silence that had descended on the great hall.
"It worked." She shared a triumphant look with Jon of all people and smiled a tearful smile, "It worked."
"Aye," Jon said returning the smile. He cocked an eyebrow and cast a look at Theon and Robb then to everyone around them. "Maybe a little too well."
Sansa shrugged, "It worked, we have a chance."
Ned eyed them both, the emotional wall that had always kept them apart seemed to be just...gone. Their simple and easygoing exchange, though cryptic words, spoke of a closer relationship between them than he'd seen before.
He gazed at his children and saw various expressions. Sansa had a happy knowing look in her tearful eyes. Jon's expression was mixed, both happy and resigned, though resigned to what he didn't know. Robb was still looking ashamed, while Arya was looked utterly blank.
He opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but the breath was knocked out of him as Arya launched herself at him and latched around his waist with a strength he didn't know she possessed.
"Father!" she crowed happily.
For a moment he enjoyed the sensation, he tussled her hair then lifted her up, holding her tight. He held his littlest daughter, reveling in the sensation, the closeness, he thought he would never have again.
They pulled away from each other and Arya looked him with silent tears streaming down her face, "I don't care how this happened, I'm glad you're not dead anymore."
The happy sensation in his gut turned to ice as Arya's comment returned the surreality of this night to him.
A commotion started beyond the crowd and even as he turned to investigate, a disheveled and half dressed Ser Rodrik Cassel stalked forward to stand by where Maester Luwin was ministering aid to Theon. There was a wild look in his eyes. At first Ned wondered at his intent but all doubt of what he was going to do was cast from his mind with Ser Rodrik's next action.
Horrified, Ned watched as Ser Rodrik drew and raised his sword, as to strike the fallen and bleeding Theon.
"You fucking Squid cunt!" roared Ser Rodrik, his face red with fury.
Before he could strike, a big bulk grabbed him and Ser Rodrik was jerked off his feet, the sword wretched from his hands and sent flying far away.
Rodrik squirmed as he was held up in the air by his attacker. He looked at his attacker and swore in surprise, "Hodor? Put me down!"
Hodor actually give him unamused look.
"No."
Rodrik's jaw fell open in surprise and he gaped at Hodor.
"....You will not kill Theon today, Ser Rodrik. We have more important people to kill. Much more is at stake then you know," Hodor continued.
The muttering in the hall ground to a halt as everyone stared at the halfwit that normally was only capable of saying Hodor.
Ned stared dumbly at Hodor, gathering his thoughts, he put Arya down and took a hesitant step forward, "Willas? You can speak again?"
Hodor stared at him emotionlessly and then shook his head.
"It's not Hodor. It's Bran. He's warging into Hodor." Stated Arya calmly, "Meera told me about this. It's not the first time he's done this."
Ned turned to face Arya, the full import of that sentence took several moments to be fully realised by Ned's already strained mind.
"WHAT?!" he screamed as his scalp tried to crawl off his skull at this revelation.
"It is me father. And we cannot kill Theon. We all have parts to play, even him," explained Hodor/Bran calmly as if there was nothing wrong with hearing coherent words coming from Hodor's mouth.
The world has gone mad... Ned thought in stupefaction.
"Willas?" a trembling old voice called.
Hodor/Bran turned to face the speaker.
Old Nan stood there, her whole body trembling, at the edge of the crowd.
"Old Nan," he said warmly.
Old Nan stood there for a full second staring up at Hodor with big wide disbelieving, yet hopeful eyes before she collapsed bonelessly to the ground.
Maester Luwin displayed a speed that belied his age as he left Theon's side and came running to the crumpled form of Old Nan.
Luwin's hand went to her neck and after a moment, he breathed a sigh of relief, "She lives." He cast a pointed glance at Hodor/Bran, "But she has received a severe upset." he reported gravely.
Ned cast a look around at his family and the others gathered there, before turning back to look at Hodor/Bran, "There is much that needs to be explained."
"It would be best to speak privately father," suggested Sansa coolly. "More than you can imagine must be said," she added cryptically.
Ned cast a speculative look as Sansa, but his next words were cut off as Catelyn's panicked scream came from the entrance of the great hall.
"MAESTER LUWIN!" she cried.
Ned turned to look towards her, the crowd parted before her and he gasped as she scrambled into the great hall carrying a limp Bran in her arms.
Catelyn Stark
Her eyes opened and she found herself staring up at a very familiar ceiling.
The ceiling looked just like the one in Winterfell, above her side of the bed.
She just lay there numb with confusion.
The Rains of Castamere.
She had been in the Twins, surrounded by the bodies of Robb's loyal Northmen and women. Talisa and her unborn child, lifeless and dead, in a puddle of their own blood.
Walder Frey cackling from high table.
She remembered her heart breaking as Robb collapsed lifelessly to the floor...
She'd slit that innocent girl's throat with a cry of despair.
Numbness had consumed her, she hadn't even felt the knife that had slit her throat from behind....
Snoring cut into her revere and she turned towards the sound.
She froze and her breath caught, as her eyes locked on her beloved Ned's scrunched up face, he was snoring next to her, just as he had, before leaving Winterfell. Peaceful and alive. And snoring.
This is a dream...
Slowly, she reached out a hand and tenderly stroked the side of Ned's face. She willed whatever dream this was, not to end.
Her trembling hand lingered on Ned's cheek, feeling his warmth. Her breath hitched and she fought off tears. She came closer to him and gingerly placed a gentle kiss on his lips.
Ned didn't disappear, he murmured in his sleep but didn't awaken.
Maybe it was all a just a nightmare...Maybe this is Real, a part of Cat's mind prayed with fervor.
The children! Her children! Another part of her mind suddenly screamed.
Heedless of her sleeping husband, she rose quickly from bed, casting the covers aside and feeling the cool air chilling her. She stood, grabbed heavy furs and wrapped them around her shift as she all but fled from the room and her peacefully sleeping husband, going in search of her lost children.
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She reached Rickon's room first. She could hear loud noises coming from inside. She could hear other noises now coming from the great hall, but she cast those aside, she had to check on her children!
Tentatively, she opened the door.
Her little boy was jumping manically on his bed playing with his direwolf, a massive smile plastered all over his face.
She let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding and stepped inside. She stood there watching him play without a care in the world, feeling a warmness filling her heart.
Rickon finally noticed her, he stopped jumping suddenly and came to a stop standing on his bed and staring at her.
"Mother!" he screamed. He jumped from his bed, a long leap towards her and threw himself at her.
She went to her knees and swept him up into her arms, all thoughts of her impossible nightmare fleeing from her mind, as she held her youngest tightly to her breast. She knelt and held onto him as tight as she could, afraid that he would evaporate and leave her alone once more.
Eventually, She pulled back from him, smiling happily as she stroked her son's face, looking at him, just staring at him and remembering everything about him.
"You're back." Rickon stated happily.
The smile slipped from her lips, "Back? Back from where?" she asked in trepidation.
Rickon gave her a look, almost questioning her intelligence, "From the South. Father went first, with the King. Then you. Then Robb. None of you ever came back."
Cat shook, "No...that was just a dream."
Rickon rolled his eyes in annoyance, "No it wasn't. You all went south, you all died there."
Cat shook her head emphatically, "No. No...that was just a nightmare. We're here in Winterfell." A terrible, terrible nightmare...
"It wasn't a nightmare mother, it all happened," Rickon stated evenly, with a shake of his head.
Her whole body trembled, it had to have been a nightmare.
"Everyone left and then Theon came..."
"And he killed you." finished Cat angrily, "The Seven damned Greyjoy killed you!"
"Theon didn't kill us," Rickon answered with a frown.
Catelyn felt her heart skip a beat in surprise, "What?"
"Osha saved us. Me and Bran, and Shaggy and Summer. And Hodor. We escaped."
Cat couldn't breathe, she pulled her son back into her embrace and wept.
They'd lived! Bran and Rickon had lived! Joy overwhelmed her. Her boys had lived! It was a while before she could focus on anything else.
She let her son out of her embrace and asked her voice full of emotion, "You escaped, then what happened?"
"We ran, away from Winterfell, hiding from everyone," he paused, "Then Jojen and Meera Reed found us. Jojen talked a lot. He convinced Bran that he needed to go beyond the Wall. So they went and me and Osha and Shaggy went on hiding."
Cat went white as a sheet, the blood roaring in her ears. Her crippled son beyond the Wall?! Reed? Howland Reed's children? Madness! Utter madness!
Rickon continued on talking not noticing his mother's distraction, she missed some of his words, "...then they gave us to the Boltons."
That sharpened Cat's attention, "The Boltons?! What did they do to you?"
Rickon looked down unhappy, "It was Ramsay. He killed me."
Cat's mind was screaming at the injustice of it all, but she kept a hold on herself.
"Ramsay said Jon and Sansa were coming for me, I saw Jon before...the end. He had an army with him. He even had a giant with him!" said excitedly. He paused thoughtfully, "Maybe if I hadn't run in a straight line Jon could have saved me?"
The Bastard? Her mind practically spat the word, With an army? A Giant? And Sansa? She was in the North? How did she escape from the Lannisters?
"How is all this possible?"
"It was Magic of course." Rickon said with another roll of his eyes. "Do you think Jon and Sansa are here as well? Or Osha?" Rickon whistled at his direwolf, "Come on Shaggy. Let's go find Them!"
Rickon ran out of his room, with his direwolf hot on his heels, leaving a very bewildered and scared Cat behind.
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The commotion was louder now, coming from the great hall, but still she ignored it.
She moved onwards to Bran's room next, trepidation in her heart after her encounter with Rickon. She wondered what madness she would find there.
She prayed silently to the Father for protection and the Crone for guidance on this insane night. Everything was impossible and yet it all felt so real.
She came to Bran's door and with a deep breath opened it and went in.
The room was quiet with only one flicking candle lit, giving Cat only a little light to check on her son.
She edged inside, making out the sleeping form of her son wrapped in his furs.
A deep sigh escaped her body and she felt herself relax, he here, he's safe. He's NOT beyond the Wall.
She stood at the side of his bed, as her eyes continued to adjust to the flickering light.
She frowned, there was something wrong with his eyes...
She screamed a blood curdling scream.
Bran's eyes were open, gone were his brown eyes, instead unnatural white orbs stared out...and he lay on his back stiller than when he had fallen from the tower.
She started to shake him, trying to wake him.
She continued to scream as she shook Bran's inert body. She kept screamed his name, calling to him, trying to awaken him from whatever unnatural sleep held a hold over him.
Not again, not again....
The door to Bran's room slammed open and Old Nan came running in, despite her age.
"My Lady?" she questioned worriedly.
"Get Luwin! Get the Maester!" she screamed in a panic at the old woman before turning back to continue trying to wake Bran from whatever fit he was going through.
Cat didn't see Old Nan leave, she just continued to fail at awakening her comatose son. Her panic and fear rising with every passing moment.
She waited and waited but Old Nan didn't return.
She gathered Bran into her arms and ran from the room in search of Luwin.
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She was screaming for the Maester with each step she took. She ran to the great hall, hoping that whatever was happening there Luwin would also be there.
She entered the great hall.
"MAESTER LUWIN!" she screamed, she'd lost count of the number of times she'd called for the venerable old Maester.
There was crowd there, they parted in a hurry for the frantic Lady Stark and she found the Maester at the center of the all the commotion.
Luwin was kneeling beside Old Nan, who was collapsed on the ground. Nearby Theon was also on the ground blood covering his face. She saw Robb being restrained by Jory and the Bastard. There was blood on Robb's fists. Sansa stood defiant between Robb and Theon. Ned stood with Arya by his side. And strangest of all, Ser Rodrik was stood almost held aloft by the lackwit Hodor.
All this she noticed and dismissed as she rushed to Luwin, kneeling by his side and thrusting Bran out.
"He won't wake! You have to help him," Cat demanded in a panic.
Instead of helping, Luwin just cast a glance at Hodor, and raised a questioning eyebrow.
"It's alright mother, there's nothing wrong with me," Hodor said.
Cat's jaw hit the floor as she stared up at the lackwit. Her mouth moved but only mumbles came out. There were too many surprises tonight. Too many.
Rickon came out of nowhere and came to his mother's side, placing a reassuring arm around her.
"It's ok mother. It's Bran not Hodor," explained Rickon quickly, "He's just warging." He looked up at Hodor, "I didn't know you could warg into people."
Hodor/Bran looked down at Rickon and shrugged, "Just Hodor."
Cat felt the floor falling out from under her feet. Her blood was roaring in her ears and she couldn't see clearly. If she wasn't already kneeling she'd have fallen to the floor.
Was this what having a fit felt like?
"My Lady?" Luwin called out, she could feel his hands taking Bran's limp body from her as she started to sway.
Eddard came to her side and placed an arm around her waist, supporting her.
She clung to him, "It's impossible Ned. What madness is this? It's a dream isn't it?" she whispered to her returned from the dead husband.
"I don't know Cat, but this is all too real," Ned spoke quietly but firmly, "But I don't think this is dream. I don't know how this happened, but we will find out."
"I did this father, it was our only chance." Hodor/Bran cut in.
Cat's head jerked up to look at Hodor/Bran in astonishment, a quick glance around saw nearly everyone else was just as surprised.
Except Sansa and the Bastard. They had knowing looks on their faces.
"It was Bran. And he's right it was our only chance." spoke the Bastard forcefully. "Lord Stark. There is too much to say and little time to speak. There are traitors to be dealt with and preparations that must be begun," there was note of command in his voice, that Cat had never heard before.
She bristled at the tone but Sansa cut her off.
"Jon is right," she said firmly, casting what looked like a reprimanding look at Cat. "Father, we should talk in your solar."
Cat blinked at her daughter in surprise. The forceful and commanding tone was also uncharacteristic of her
"Ser Rodrik, I will release you, but you will not harm Theon," commanded Hodor/Bran.
Ser Rodrik just stared balefully at Hodor/Bran.
"Ser Rodrik. I will have you word that no harm will come to Theon Greyjoy," Commanded Ned gravely.
Ser Rodrik gnashed his teeth angrily together before answering, "Aye Milord, you have my word."
Slowly Hodor/Bran released his hold on the old knight.
Then, as Cat watched Hodor's eyes flashed into white orbs, just like Bran's, for a moment before returning to normal. The lackwit stared about him in confusion before saying, "Hodor. Hodor?"
Cat's breath got caught in her throat, at the same time, Bran rose up from where Luwin had been holding him. His eyes were the normal brown once again. He stood there as if nothing was wrong. His face was blank and unemotional as he stared about.
"It's okay Hodor everything is alright," Bran reassured the lackwit, "Go help Luwin," he pointed to Theon. Bran then turned to Ser Rodrik, "Ser Rodrik, I need you to take your men and wake everyone, I have to know how many were affected, how many remember," he commanded in a lifeless tone that matched his empty face.
Rodrik cast a glance to Ned, who gave him a curt nod.
"Aye, Lord Brandon, as you command," rumbled Ser Rodrik unhappily.
The old Knight began shouting orders at those assembled, arranging teams to do Bran's bidding, leaving the Starks nearly alone.
People began to leave the great hall and Ned turned to Jory, who was still holding on to Robb, "Jory help Luwin, and make sure no more harm comes to Theon," commanded Ned gravely.
Ned turned to his children, "Let's go talk." he said gravely.